Trip Into Darkness
by plumtuckered
Summary: Commander Tucker gets way too close to becoming just like the alien who holds him captive.
1. Default Chapter

Note from Author - The basic idea for this story came from a very old episode from a very old series I saw once (The Crucible written by John T. Dugan). Of course, the characters of Enterprise are not mine but I do enjoy them immensely. Constructive criticism is most welcomed and appreciated.  
  
**********  
  
TRIP INTO DARKNESS  
  
Captain Jonathan Archer, commanding officer of the starship Enterprise, stood outside his friend's quarters. He hesitated only briefly before he raised his hand to press the door chime. Silence was his only response. He tried one more time but again, he was met only with silence. This time he pushed another button and the door slid open. There across the room he could see the outline of Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker silouetted against the window. The light that poured into the dim room from the corridor revealed a tray of untouched food sitting on Trip's desk. Jon stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. His engineer didn't move. The captain walked slowly to stand next to his friend. He could see that Trip's eyes were looking out at the passing stars but he didn't really seem to be seeing them. He noticed that the bruising around his right eye had faded considerably and that his split lip had begun to heal. Jon could feel the tightness in his friend without even touching him.  
  
"Are you ready to tell me about it, Trip?" Archer asked softly.  
  
Trip took a deep breath but still didn't look at his captain. "I don't know, sir." he responded quietly.  
  
"There's no rank, not right now. It's just Trip and Jon, two friends who have seen each other through thick and thin," Jon placed his hand on his engineer's shoulder. He could feel Trip begin to tremble. The starlight caught on the few tears that slowly made their way down the commander's face. He shook his head.  
  
"I'm so ashamed," he whispered.  
  
********** EIGHT DAYS EARLIER **********  
  
"Tucker to Enterprise."  
  
"Go ahead, Trip," Captain Archer's voice crackled through Trip's communicator. The Chief Engineer surveyed his surroundings then looked at Ensign Thomas Crandall who stood next to the drill. He and the young engineer had just arrived that morning in Shuttlepod One on the small planet referred to only as M4 in the Vulcan database.  
  
"There's no dieuterium deposits down here, Cap'n," Trip responded, unable to hide the frustration from his voice. "That Trileerian trader was lyin' through the few teeth he had left."  
  
"Well, we didn't really need it anyway. Consider it shore leave, Commander," Archer chuckled.  
  
Trip looked at Ensign Crandall and rolled his eyes. "Believe me, sir, this isn't the place you'd want to come on a vacation! We'll load up our equipment and head on back. See you in an hour. Tucker out." Trip shoved his communicator in his hip pocket then walked over to Ensign Crandall. "I'm sorry your first away mission wasn't a little more excitin', Tom. If our sensors could have penetrated all the magnetic deposits on this rock, we'd have known that trader was pullin' the Cap'n's leg. We'd be sitting down to a late lunch in the mess hall right now!"  
  
"No regrets, Commander!" Crandall replied easily. "It's just been nice to have some fresh air."  
  
The young ensign worked on disassembling the drilling unit while Trip started loading the storage cases into the shuttlepod. He was just stepping out to retrieve another load when he heard Crandall yell for him. As he rounded the pod, he stopped cold. Crandall was standing with his hands up, face to face with a reptilian looking alien holding a weapon. The alien appeared to be a male and by his posture, one of considerable age. The gun he held looked archaic. He was speaking what sounded like gibberish until Trip's universal translator finally kicked in.  
  
"We don't want any trouble here," Trip warned. His right hand dropped to his side but found nothing. He silently cursed himself for leaving his phase pistol in the pod. He saw that Crandall was unarmed as well. Trip put his hands up and took a few cautious steps toward the alien.  
  
"Come any closer and I'll kill this one where he stands!"  
  
"Alright, alright. What do you want?" Trip asked evenly, immediately stopping. The alien just laughed.  
  
"What makes you think I want anything?"  
  
"Listen. I'm Commander Tucker and this is Ensign Crandall. Like I said before, we don't....."  
  
The alien fired his weapon at point blank range. Trip watched in horror as Crandall stumbled backwards, blood soaking the front of his uniform.  
  
"No!" Trip cried, running the few meters that separated him from the young man. He managed to catch Crandall and lower him carefully to the ground. He was frantically searching the ensign's neck for a pulse when everything went completely black.  
  
**********  
  
Continued.... 


	2. Chapter 2

**********  
  
TRIP INTO DARKNESS - CHAPTER 2  
  
"Captain, there's still no response from Commander Tucker or Ensign Crandall," reported Ensign Hoshi Sato, turning from her communications station. Her voice was steady but the worry was clear on her young face. The same worry that Captain Archer was beginning to feel as well. It had been well over an hour and there was still no sign of Trip or Ensign Crandall. He stood from his chair and moved to stand next to his science officer, Sub-commander T'Pol. The Vulcan was staring intently at her monitor.  
  
"Are sensors picking up any bio-signs at all?" Archer asked, leaning over her shoulder.  
  
"No, Captain." she replied. "Enterprise's sensors are still being disrupted by the planet's magnetic deposits." T'Pol hit a few buttons, then shook her head. "I am unable to read anything on the surface."  
  
"Maybe it's just taken them longer to load all the equipment," Ensign Travis Mayweather said from his seat at the helm.  
  
"They would have contacted us," Archer replied. "Trip said they'd be back in an hour." The captain paused then turned to Hoshi. "Can you zero in on Trip's communicator signal?" He watched as Hoshi's hands moved rapidly over her console.  
  
"I'm not reading a signal at all anymore, Captain. Commander Tucker's comm. line doesn't appear to be open anymore." She put her hand to her ear piece as she pushed another key. "Neither is Ensign Crandall's."  
  
Archer looked across the bridge at his armory officer, Lt. Malcolm Reed. "Prepare a security team, Lieutenant. Meet me in the launchbay in fifteen minutes. Ensign Mayweather, prepare Shuttlepod Two."  
  
"Aye, sir." Reed hurried to the turbolift followed closely by Mayweather.  
  
"Sub-commander, you have the bridge."  
  
"Yes, Captain," T'Pol stood and moved to the center of the bridge as Archer joined his two officers in the turbolift.  
  
**********  
  
Trip could hear the crackling of a fire. He slowly opened his eyes and sat up. He tried to reach his hand up to touch the back of his aching head but something stopped him. He looked at his wrists now. Both were circled with thick metal bracelets that were linked together by a short chain. Then he remembered what had happened. Crandall! Where was Crandall? He looked around him. There was no sign of the ensign. Panic threatened to take hold of him and he attempted to stand. The same metal irons encircled both his ankles, linked together by a short chain as well. As he struggled to free himself, he heard soft laughter from the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he now could see that he was in a huge cave. He turned his head, scanning for the source of the laughter. Just beyond the fire's circle of light, he could make out the reptilian alien. He was sitting with his back against a rock wall.  
  
"It's about time you woke up, boy!" he said. The tone of his voice sent a shiver down Trip's spine.  
  
"Where is Ensign Crandall?" Trip demanded.  
  
"He's dead," the man responded coldly. "I left his body where it fell." He got to his feet and moved into the light. The fire reflected off his eyes as he bent down slowly and stoked the blaze with a stick. Trip sat in shocked silence. The man was wearing Crandall's uniform, the blood stain standing out clearly. Between the pain in his head and the realization that his crewmate was dead, his thoughts were jumbled and confused. He cursed silently, suddenly feeling very helpless and alone. Trip closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. Feeling focused, he opened his eyes and lifted his chin to watch his captor. The man moved slowly like every movement caused him discomfort. He had torn the sleeves from the uniform and Trip could see that his arms were muscular but the scaley skin was beginning to hang loosely. This was consistent with Trip's guess that the alien was quite old.  
  
"There's no life here. Where did you come from?" Trip asked. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, hearing the chains clinking quietly.  
  
"Nosey boy, aren't you?" The man looked through the flames at the commander. He just stared and Trip had to fight not to break the eye contact. The alien seemed to find him amusing and he laughed again. "I was dropped here along with two others several years ago."  
  
"Where are the others?"  
  
"They're long dead, boy. I've been here alone for more years than I can remember."  
  
"Why were you left here?"  
  
The alien's eyes narrowed in anger. Trip could tell he was testing the man's patience.  
  
"We were convicts, banished here for the rest of our lives."  
  
"Convicts?"  
  
The alien nodded. He sat down slowly then stared into the fire, absently tapping the stick on the ground next to him. They sat in silence for a few moments and Trip thought the man wasn't going to divulge any more information. After several minutes, the alien's head snapped up so quickly, Trip felt himself start.  
  
"You said you are a commander?" he asked with curiousity. "Are you from a warship?"  
  
"No. Enterprise isn't a warship. We're explorers. Strictly on a peaceful mission," Trip replied. He tried to turn the conversation. "You said you and your friends were convicts."  
  
"Friends!" his captor laughed. "Oh, they weren't my friends! I didn't even know them before we were dumped here."  
  
"What were your crimes?"  
  
"Parl and I were smugglers. Parl killed the other one before I found out what he did."  
  
Trip swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice even. "What are you called?" he asked.  
  
"You can call me Sir, boy!" the man shouted angrily. He stood and began to pace, mumbling to himself. Trip couldn't understand anything his captor was rambling about so he took the opportunity to look at his surroundings. The cave was huge. Trip guessed they were a good distance in from the mouth. There was a worn and tattered blanket across from him where his captor apparently slept. Against the wall to his right was a pile of dried wood. The only trees Trip remembered seeing were several kilometers away from where he had landed the pod. The alien must have made several trips to accumulate so much wood by himself. He turned his head to look over his left shoulder then gasped audibly. Propped against the cave wall was a skeleton, a few tattered pieces of clothing still hanging from it's frame.  
  
"That's Parl," chuckled his captor. "You're actually wearing his irons. He doesn't cause me much trouble anymore." The alien reached into a pocket and pulled out a twisted piece of black metal. He tossed it up in the air and it landed in the middle of the flames. "I had to make a key in order to get the irons open and closed again. I won't be needing it anymore."  
  
Trip turned his head to stare at the amused alien. "What do you want from me?" he demanded. He could hear the trembling of his voice.  
  
"I'm getting too old to dig anymore, boy. You're going to help me."  
  
"Dig? Dig for what?"  
  
"Nothing in particular," the alien shrugged. "Just dig."  
  
"I'm not helping you dig or do anything else, for that matter!" Trip shouted defiantly. His captor was in front of him so quickly, Trip didn't have time to avoid the hard slap to his face. He fell to his side, momentarily dazed. Slowly, he pushed himself back to a sitting position. He glared into the eyes before him, daring the man to hit him again.  
  
"Oh it is going to be fun breaking you, boy!" the alien shouted gleefully. "You'll do exactly what I want you to do!"  
  
"And what, besides digging for nothing, is that?"  
  
"Kill me with your bare hands!"  
  
Trip laughed. "I'm no killer!"  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"You're insane, you know that?" Trip could feel the fear building in his stomach. The alien was indeed insane and dangerously so. He reached down slowly to his hip pocket, hoping to feel the familiar shape of the communicator.  
  
"I destroyed your little toy," his captor sneered. "And your friends will only find your transport and your companion's body. They'll never find you. I've made sure of that." He began pacing again, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "This is going to be much funner than the last time!"  
  
Trip looked up at the alien, his eyes wide in horror. "The last time?"  
  
"Oh yes, boy! A long time ago, a transport vehicle crashed here. Where did you think I got my weapon from?" He momentarily stopped pacing and stared at Trip. Then he started moving again. "Doesn't matter, doesn't matter! I tended to the pilot's wounds. When he recovered, he helped me dig, too. He was like you. He believed he wasn't a killer either. It didn't take him very long to come after me, though. He was a lot older than you and he wasn't very strong so I ended up killing him accidentally while we were fighting," the alien shook his head in regret before he continued. "Oh everyone's a killer, boy. Everyone!"  
  
Trip looked down and shook his head. "You're insane," he repeated quietly. The alien grabbed him under one arm and easily hauled him to his feet. Trip could feel his breath on his face and he turned his head away.  
  
"You're insane.....what!" his captor screamed. "You're insane.....what!"  
  
Trip was full of anger and he turned to look his captor in the eye. "You're insane...Sir!" he spat out.  
  
The man shoved him away. "It's time to get to work!"  
  
Trip stumbled over the chain that linked his feet together but he managed to stay upright. He watched as the alien grabbed a torch and what looked like an old belt. He lit the torch from the fire then shoved Trip further down into a tunnel that broke off from the main chamber. Trip stumbled forward for what seemed like an eternity before he could finally make out a large pile of rocks stacked against the wall to his right. He was pushed to his knees.  
  
"Dig!"  
  
Trip didn't move. The sting of the belt hitting him across the back made him wince but he still refused to move. After a few more stinging hits, Trip began clawing at the ground with his hands. He clenched his teeth, both from the pain and from the anger that was growing inside of him. The constant laughter from his alien captor rang in his ears.  
  
**********  
  
Continued..... 


	3. Chapter 3

**********  
  
TRIP INTO DARKNESS - CHAPTER 3  
  
The sun had set by the time both Shuttlepod One and Two had lifted off from the planet's surface. Captain Archer sat at the back of the second pod, his fists clenched in frustration. His eyes fell upon the blanketed shape of Ensign Crandall's lifeless body which lay at his feet. He felt physically sick both for the loss of one of his crew but also with worry for his long-time friend. The away team had searched for hours for Trip but there was no sign of him anywhere. There weren't even footprints except those they found next to Ensign Crandall. The captain leaned back in his seat. He still felt the deep ache of guilt. When he had exited the pod, he had immediately seen the body sprawled out on the ground. Both Trip and Ensign Crandall had similar builds and both had dark blonde hair. As he approached the unclothed body, he had prayed that it wouldn't be his friend. One part of his mind knew it was a very real human response but it still hurt. Ensign Crandall was only 25 years old and he had died a very violent death. Jon vividly remembered the contrast of the dark red blood against the bright blue Star Fleet issued t-shirt. Jon swallowed back the tears. He knew he had to keep it together. The entire crew was going to be in shock from the loss of one of their own. He also knew no one would rest until they found Trip, dead or alive. The search would begin again in the morning.  
  
**********  
  
He was tired but the alien refused to let him sleep for more than what seemed like only minutes. He had completely lost track of time. And he was starving. Trip's captor allowed him water but there was no food. Trip scratched at his chin and felt the whiskers. He knew days had passed since his capture but he had no idea how many. He hadn't been allowed out of the dark and dismal cave so he didn't know how many times the sun had risen and fallen. He sat by the fire, watching the alien eagerly eat some worms he had found under some of the rocks Trip had unearthed. He had put a few of the large ones in front of Trip as he had done each time they had sat down for a meal break. Trip had refused to lower himself to eating them. His captor laughed each time and had told Trip it would only be a matter of time. The engineer watched the slimey worms twist and wriggle in the dirt. His stomach grumbled. He slowly reached down and picked one up, hearing the now familiar clinking of the chain. Trip watched it wriggle in the palm of his hand.  
  
"Eat it, boy!" coaxed his captor gleefully.  
  
Trip angrily threw it at the alien who snatched it easily out of the air. He shoved it into his mouth and chewed it in delight, watching Trip the entire time.  
  
"You are a prideful one, aren't you, boy?"  
  
Trip turned his attention to the remaining worms. They were completely oblivious to his plight. They didn't care that his back ached both from the labor and from the whippings. They didn't care that his fingers were raw from digging. They didn't care that his wrists and ankles were now so swollen, the manacles were no longer loose. Trip let out a frustrated grunt then lifted one foot and slammed it down on the worms. He was immediately pulled to his feet and shoved roughly down the tunnel. The pain shot up both legs as he moved. The alien kept shoving him forward. Trip tried to contain his building anger toward his captor. The man was laughing at him, taunting him mercilessly. He knew he couldn't let him break him. He was a better man than that. Trip reached the familiar pile of rocks and was shoved brutally to his knees. He yelped out in pain.  
  
"Dig, boy!"  
  
"No!" Trip responded through clenched teeth. He braced himself for the whipping but this time as he felt the sting, he turned and grabbed the belt and pulled on it. The alien fell forward and landed on his stomach. Trip scrambled to his feet and stumbled painfully back up the tunnel toward the main chamber. If he could just get to the gun. He could see the fire as he rounded the last corner. He fell, tripping over his own feet and began to crawl. The pain in his ankles and wrists was excrutiating and he felt sick. Then he saw the gun barrel protruding from beneath the alien's blanket. He reached for it then turned. His captor was walking towards him, a huge grin on his face. He began to laugh.  
  
"Foolish, foolish boy," he said, shaking his head. "There is no more ammunition. I used the last of it on your friend."  
  
Trip looked at the weapon in disbelief. He lifted it and pointed it at the man who stood over him. He pulled the trigger. And nothing happened. It took all his strength not to openly sob but as he was again pulled to his feet and forcefully shoved forward, he could feel the tears slide down his face.  
  
**********  
  
This is now my life, Trip thought as he clawed at the dirt with bloody fingers. The best and the brightest, the captain had always said and now he was digging for rocks on his hands and knees. His head pounded and he ached all over. He knew that he was sick. The skin he could see around the manacles on both his wrists and ankles was puffy and discolored. He guessed infection had set in. He would find his mind wandering constantly. Remembering his childhood, his days in Star Fleet, and his time spent on Enterprise took him away from the constant pain. He felt weaker with each passing moment but when he would stop, his captor would whip him until he started digging again. The hunger had finally passed so it was becoming easier to refuse the worms the alien kept giving him. He felt that was at least a small victory. His eyes burned from lack of sleep and the growth on his chin was getting thicker. His uniform was filthy and torn and it smelled. He felt more like an animal than a man. He gritted his teeth as he pulled yet another rock out of the ground. He rolled it over and stacked it on the pile.  
  
"I don't want it there, boy. Start another pile over there!" his captor ordered. He snapped the belt so it hit the ground next to the engineer. Trip stood slowly and turned to look at the alien. The man looked even older than Trip remembered. He hated this man. His mama had always taught him never to hate but Trip hated this man with every ounce of his being.  
  
"Get back to work, boy!"  
  
Trip just continued to look at his captor. The alien stood and backhanded Trip hard across the mouth. He could feel the blood trickle warm down his chin. Trip held his ground, but his breathing grew faster. He tried to calm himself but the alien caught him across the right side of his face with his fist. Trip fell to the ground and willed himself to stay down. Then the laughter started. It seemed to grow louder and louder. Trip felt his hands ball into fists. There was no longer pain, only intense anger and hatred. The alien reached down and hauled the engineer to his feet. Trip turned on him and spun his captor around. He brought both hands over the man's head and pulled the chain tight around his neck. Trip pulled with all the strength he had left.  
  
"I told you everyone was a killer," the alien croaked out as he gasped for air. He didn't struggle.  
  
A killer! Is that what he had become, Trip thought as he felt himself grow cold. If that's what it meant to be rid of this man.....  
  
"You were right after all...Sir," Trip said, his voice barely a whisper.  
  
**********  
  
Continued.... 


	4. Chapter 4

**********  
  
TRIP INTO DARKNESS - CHAPTER 4  
  
Captain Archer closed the comm. line in his quarters. He rubbed his eyes in anger. Admiral Forrest said that Star Fleet was only giving him two more days to find Trip. He stood from his chair and headed to his shower. He felt drained. The burial at space for Ensign Crandall had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Two more days. They had been searching for five days and still had found no sign of the Chief Engineer. Jon knew in his heart that his friend was still alive. The crew still had hope as well. There was no shortage of volunteers for the daily searches. Today they would revisit the original landing site and search the area again. Two more days.  
  
**********  
  
Archer squinted against the sunlight as he stepped out of Shuttlepod One. The other five members quickly followed. Lieutenant Reed stepped up next to him.  
  
"What did the admiral have to say, sir?" he asked quietly.  
  
"We have to continue our mission in two days, Malcolm. Star Fleet will consider Trip dead after that," Archer replied. He saw the change in Reed's posture as the reality of losing his friend hit him. The captain patted the lieutenant's arm. "We still have two days, Malcolm. We'll find him."  
  
Jon stepped away from the group and surveyed their surroundings. Except for some distant hills, the terrain was flat and dry. He smiled as he remembered his last conversation with his friend. Trip was right, this was definitely no place for a vacation. As he scanned the expanse of land between himself and the base of the hills, Jon saw movement. He began to run. He heard Reed call his name but he kept running. His heart was racing as fast as his legs. There was definitely someone out there.  
  
********** TWO DAYS LATER **********  
  
"When I got to you, you were delirious. It took me several minutes to get through to you. When you finally realized who I was, you just collapsed," Jon watched Trip's face, trying to see what his friend was feeling. "We don't know how long you'd been walking, dragging that body behind you."  
  
Trip shrugged and ran his bandaged fingers through his hair. He turned from the window and walked slowly to sit on his bed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and looked at his healing hands and wrists. Jon moved to sit beside him. The memory of seeing Trip pulling a corpse behind him on that make-shift stretcher, talking to himself, was something Jon knew he'd never forget. He had hardly recognized his friend. He remembered Trip's eyes looking into his with no sign of recognition. He sighed and shook the thoughts away.  
  
"I can't imagine what it must have been like for you, Trip," he said gently. "Dr. Phlox said that your captor actually died from some sort of illness he'd apparently had for years. It appears he wanted you to put him out of his misery, but you didn't kill him. You do realize that, don't you?"  
  
"I almost did, Cap'n. And how can the Doc be so certain that what I did to him didn't contribute to his death?"  
  
"Phlox did a complete autopsy while you were recovering, Trip. The man did not die from strangulation. You've got to believe that."  
  
"He said everyone was a killer. I kept tellin' myself it wasn't true. That I wasn't one, but I am....." Trip's voice faltered and Jon could see in the dim starlight that he was struggling with all his might not to break down.  
  
"No you're not. You stopped yourself. This alien treated you like an animal. He wore you down by depriving you of sleep and food. He chained you and beat you, Trip, but you didn't allow him to break you. You should be proud of yourself, not ashamed," Jon put his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. "You are not a killer. You're the best and the brightest, but a killer, no way." He saw the hint of a smile on Trip's face then Jon stood and pulled his friend to his feet. "Now as I recall, the agreement with the doctor was that he would release you from sickbay if you promised to go straight to bed and get some sleep." Jon tugged the blankets back and watched Trip reluctantly climb in. He pulled the covers back up. "You're going to be okay, Trip. I promise you that."  
  
Trip nodded. "I hope so, Cap'n. Right now, it just still hurts so damn much," he answered, moving down further under the blankets.  
  
"Try to get some sleep. I'll come back and check on you a little later." Jon turned and walked to the door. He looked back at Trip, who was already beginning to drift off. He sighed again. It was going to be a long haul getting Trip through this. Then he smiled. He had his friend back with him. His best friend. Jon looked out the window at the passing stars, remembering how close they were to moving on without Trip. He quickly let go of that thought, glanced at his friend one more time, then opened the door and quietly left the room.  
  
THE END 


End file.
